


Plus One

by youjik33



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Drug Use, F/M, Fake Dating, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 15:57:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4967143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youjik33/pseuds/youjik33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erlich needs a date for his high school girlfriend's wedding. Good thing he knows someone who owns a suit, is good at small talk, and really likes doing favors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plus One

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the [SV Kink Meme](http://siliconvalleykink.dreamwidth.org/1066.html?thread=26922#cmt26922%0A). Prompt: “Everyone else is busy so Erlich ends up reluctantly taking Jared as his date to a wedding (family, ex-girlfriend, ex-incubee, your call)”

“Okay, guys, here's the deal,” Erlich announces to the living room. “November Andrews is getting married this weekend and I completely forgot, so one of you has to be my plus one. ...not you, Jian Yang. Someone who can lie convincingly and think on their feet. Actually, not you either, Richard. Someone who won't puke on my suit.”

“Two questions,” Dinesh speaks up. “First, what the hell is a November Andrews. Second, what exactly does your pretend date get out of this arrangement?”

“November Andrews was my girlfriend in high school. We went to prom together.”

“Your prom date was named _November_.”

“Yes, Gilfoyle. And she was super hot. ...her parents were total hippies, okay. And what you get out of it is free food and an open bar and the chance to pretend you've been hitting this.”

Gilfoyle hesitates for a second, considering the phrase “open bar”, but Jared says “I'll do it,” and Erlich says “You're in.” Because Jared actually owns a well-tailored suit and is cheerful and good at small talk, so this is one thing he's actually perfect for.

 

The following Saturday they're crossing the Bay Bridge into Berkeley when Jared asks “So why did you feel like you needed a date? Aren't weddings supposed to be great places for single guys to meet women?”

Erlich had asked Jared to drive so he could take full advantage of the promised open bar, but he's regretting it now, squashed into the passenger seat of the stupid tiny Volt. “I don't know,” he says. “There's just something weird about your first girlfriend getting married when you're single. Even though I _like_ being single. You know what, new rule. You don't ask me any stupid questions for the rest of the day.”

Another thing Jared is actually good at: following rules.

 

November is some kind of Neo-Pagan, and even though Erlich thinks that's basically a bullshit pseudo-religion, the ceremony is in a grassy park and there's a lot of patchouli incense and talk about the Earth Mother, and it's actually kind of nice. Maybe seeing November in her wedding dress (it's cream-colored with flowing sleeves and a corset and it makes her boobs look fabulous) is just making him uncharacteristically sentimental. She finds him afterward, when everyone is milling around waiting for the caterers to finish setting up the buffet, and throws her arms around him. For a second he's sixteen again, nervously fumbling with her bra straps in her parents' basement.

“Congratulations,” he manages. “You look amazing.”

“So do you!” she gushes. “It's been so long. Who's this?”

Jared's put his hand on Erlich's shoulder, so Erlich takes the opportunity to say “This is Jared Dunn. My boyfriend.”

November looks surprised, but only for a second.

“Really! That's wonderful! It's so good to meet you!”

Jared accepts her hug gracefully, and she leaves them to continue making the rounds.

“I think that went well,” Jared says.

“Yeah.” Erlich puts his arm around Jared's waist, mostly just out of curiosity. “It did.”

 

The food is all vegan, quinoa salad and fried tofu cubes and mushrooms stuffed with something that seems like cheese but isn't, but it's good. And the weird band isn't bad either, which is surprising, since it contains a fiddle, a mandolin, an assortment of flutes, and something that looks like bagpipes, but the guy's squeezing it with his arm instead of blowing it. The dance floor is lit by starlight and about a million tiny white lights on strings, and it's so romantic it makes him a little uncomfortable. He stands on the edge of the dance floor and watches Jared, who's bent over a table talking to a tiny old grandma. He'd been the right choice. Jared's charming and polite and everyone seems to adore him. And now that Erlich's gotten used to looking at his weird body proportions, he actually looks pretty good in that suit. Kind of handsome, even. 

“Your boyfriend is the sweetest thing ever,” November says, melting out of the crowd as if she's reading his thoughts. “How did an asshole like you end up with someone like that?”

“Just lucky, I guess,” Erlich says, returning her smile. He should have kept better count of his Jack and Cokes, because he seems to have slipped right passed the having-a-good-time level of buzzed and into the maudlin stage. Always his least favorite.

Jared glances over, and notices him looking. He edges his way through the crowd, gives a nod of acknowledgment to November, and asks Erlich, “Would you like to dance?”

“Yeah, sure,” Erlich says, and is relieved when Jared lets him lead.

“Are you all right?” Jared murmurs under the music. “Oh, I'm sorry, that might count as a stupid question, in which case ignore it.”

“I'm fine,” Erlich says. “I drank too much. Also I smoked a joint in the porta-potty. Don't look so scandalized, judging by the smell in there I wasn't the only one.” He sighs, digs his fingers into the fabric of Jared's jacket. “It's just so weird. I don't feel jealous or angry or any of that. I actually feel happy. Like, because she seems so happy, I'm happy. It's confusing.”

“That's called 'empathy', Erlich,” Jared says, earnest as ever.

“I thought that was when you felt sorry for somebody. And I don't, at all. I guess I wanted to bring a date because I didn't want her worrying about me, either. She dumped me when she left for college and she felt like shit about it, so... I guess I just wanted her to see how great I'm doing. Jesus, that was like seventeen years ago. I'd barely even thought about her until I got the wedding invite.”

The song ends and Erlich, swaying a little, leans against Jared's shoulder. Jared's so skinny but he feels solid, like a fucking telephone pole, holding him up.

“Kiss me,” Erlich says.

Jared doesn't even hesitate. He just leans in, closes his eyes, brushes his lips against Erlich's.

“Yeah, okay,” Erlich says. He's got one hand cupping Jared's cheek, brushing his thumb along the other man's jawline; some part of his brain is wondering why he's doing that. The rest is distracted by Jared's eyes, which are so blue it's stupid, and the lock of dark hair falling across his forehead like he's Superman. “We should do this more often.”

“...are you asking me out?” Jared's eyes widen, but he doesn't pull away.

“I guess so. Why the hell not.”

Jared touches Erlich's wrist, guiding his hand away gently. He runs his fingers through Erlich's hair like he's petting a cat. “Ask me again when you're sober.”

 

Erlich falls asleep in the car on the way home, lulled by the repetitive rows of street lights and Jared humming, very softly, the wedding march.

 


End file.
